Condolesco
by AlidaHush
Summary: Post Damage. HurtComfort. My condolences stay with thee, even in the most painful of times.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

The room was too small for him these days. Just sitting there trying desperately to press the tiny raised buttons on the controller had been agony enough, but now he was stuck in the apartment alone with just his sorrow. But it was times like these that he welcomed his misery. Mostly it just kept him sad enough to be miserable and drunk enough not to notice. It was the only thing he had left at the moment.

His sore thumbs traveled over the buttons and depressed them as the video game gave a screech of disapproval. Spike sighed and dropped the hunk of plastic on the floor between his knees, frustrated. As he did so, he felt a twinge halfway up his arms that told him it was time to take some of the little pills Wolfram & Hart had given him. As he stood up slowly, making sure to step over the controller, he looked toward the door and sensed someone coming down the stairs outside. He sighed and reached for the pill bottle on the table.

"Need some help with that?" someone asked from the doorway. Spike turned his eyes toward the door and saw Doyle leaning against the frame. Spike sighed and handed the urban cowboy the little bottle. He shook his head and sat back down on the sofa while Doyle shook out a few of the pills.

"Do these things really work on vamps?" he asked, looking at the tablets in his hand. He shrugged, dropped them into Spike's palm and walked over to the counter.

"Guess we'll find out," Spike sighed, looking at the collection of medication in his hand. Doyle took the only glass Spike owned out of the cupboard and filled it with water from the tap. "Never needed 'em before now." He mumbled, taking the proffered glass from Doyle with a bit of difficulty.

"So," Spike began, tossing back the pills and washing them down with a generous slug of water. "What's this little visit about? I doubt you stopped by to help me fish out a few pills." Doyle shook his head and helped himself to a beer out of Spike's fridge. He tried his best to ignore the glare that Spike shot him as he snapped off the top of the Miller.

"Actually, I did come by to check on you, believe it or not." he said, sipping the amber liquid. Spike just gave him a skeptical look and picked up the controller off the floor. He believed Doyle about as far as he could throw him. Which, at the moment, probably wouldn't be more than an inch.

"Uh-huh. The Power's send you another vision, then?" Spike guessed, hitting the red button on the center of the controller. Doyle smiled slightly and nodded.

"Last night. Pretty nice show, actually."

"Yeah. I bet." Spike sighed, maneuvering the electronic character across the screen. He was a little less than excited about Doyle's visit, but even less interested in his vision. Spike grumbled, sinking lower into the couch and paying less and less attention to what was on the screen and more and more attention to the pain slowing creeping through his arms. Doyle was silent for a moment and Spike was sure he was searching for the right words. Finally, after a silence long enough for Spike to lose his game a few times, Doyle piped up,

"You know, I was thinking that--," Doyle began, leaning forward toward Spike and watching the pixilated monkey jump across the screen. Spike cut him off before he could finish.

"I'm not goin' out, Doyle," he snapped. "In case you haven't been keepin' up with the sports pages, I got my bloody hands hacked off by that deranged Slayer _you_ sent me after." he hissed, his fingers twitching with effort as he continued to press the buttons.

"Yeah…sorry 'bout that." he admitted, taking a swig of beer. Spike glanced at him in jealousy and dropped the remote again between his feet. He padded over to the fridge and took out a beer, doing his best to pop the top. He managed to do it without too much pain and took a generous swig of it. Doyle narrowed his eyes and stood up.

"You sure that's gonna be O.K.?" he asked, nodding toward the beer in Spike's weak right hand. He must have been talking about the alcohol/medication mixture. Spike just looked at the bottle critically and shrugged.

"Bugger if I know," he snapped, heading toward the apartment's door. When he reached the threshold, he motioned out into the hallway. "Nor do I care. Now, out."

Doyle chuckled and nodded, putting his free hand into his jeans pocket and taking another drink from his beer.

"You need to get out of here, Spike. Keepin' you cooped up is like trying to nail Jell-O to a tree." Doyle said, turning back to face the vampire as he stepped into the hallway. Spike rolled his eyes and shook his head, slamming the door in Doyle's face.

After he heard Doyle's footsteps retreat far enough up the stairs, Spike slumped into the couch and gave out a low moan. He let his hands go limp across his lap and watched as the fingers curled into weak little fists. The raised scarring around his middle arms was red and angry looking, making Spike want to rub it, or at least flex the muscles to make the ache go away. But, since he could do neither without a serious amount of pain, he settled for leaning his head back against the sofa and squeezing his eyes shut. The truth was, he actually did plan to go out. It had been a good solid week since he had hit anything other than the lip of a beer bottle. Even despite the pain, his fingers twitched with anticipation. God, how he longed for a fight.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The elevator door gave a cheerful 'ding' and opened onto the lobby floor of Wolfram & Hart. Spike mentally sighed as he watched the lawyers bustle around, papers stuffed to their faces and briefcases thumping against their thighs. A while ago he had promised he never wanted to see this place again, but he realized that that was impossible, seeing as he couldn't just let Angel off the hook. If the Poof was running an evil lawfirm, Spike wasn't going to let it be an easy job.

"Oh, my God! Spike?" a chipper voice asked from over his right shoulder. He saw Harmony float around the front of her desk, pink skirt bouncing around her knees.

"Harm." He sighed, avoiding her gaze and taking a step toward Angel's door.

"What are you doing—"

"Is Angel in?" Spike asked, cutting her off with a curt wave of his arm. Harmony shut her mouth with an audible snap and scowled. After a moment, she glanced at the door and shook her head.

"No. He's in a meeting." she stalked back behind her desk and sat down. She pursed her lips as Spike walked by, but she didn't say anything.

"Right, then. Tell the Boss Man I'll be in his office." Spike turned the handle of Angel's door and let himself in. Harmony rolled her eyes as he gave her a slight wave and then disappeared behind the double doors.

"Tell your people that I'm not interested. I have better things to do with my time than sort out your tribe's issues." Angel said, walking backwards through his office doors, hand on one of the handles. Something growled and Angel just slammed the doors in reply.

"Ain't that the truth. 'Specially since you got your own." Spike chuckled from across the room. His boots were propped up on the mahogany desk and he had his hands neatly folded in his lap. At the sight, Angel rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath.

"Spike, what do you want? Don't you have your own place?" he asked, walking toward the desk, stride slightly defeated. Spike shrugged.

"Yeah, well, it's another ruddy basement. Not exactly partial." He sighed, looking out the window and taking his feet off the desk. He knew Angel would push them off anyway so he decided to save himself the trouble.

"I've got work to do."

"So do I."

"Oh, really?" Angel asked, standing over the younger vampire. "I didn't know pissing me off came with a benefits package." He scowled, hands crossed over his chest and stretching the jacket at its seams. Spike just smirked and stood up so he was nose to nose with his fellow demon.

"It doesn't. I just do it for fun."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Angel mumbled, rolling his eyes and taking Spike's place in the leather chair. Spike crossed the room to the red armchair and sat on its edge, playing with the hem of his shirt. He rubbed the material over his fingers and it worried him a little when he realized he could barely feel the fabric. His face fell slightly and he began to press harder on the black cotton. Angel must have noticed because he leaned forward against the desk.

"What are you doing?" he asked, bringing Spike's attention back to him. Spike shook his head quickly and cocked his chin in defense.

"Nothing."

"You can't feel that can you?" Angel asked cautiously after a moment of awkward silence.

"Sure I can." He defended, standing and marching over to the window. He looked at the city below, bathed in afternoon light, "Just—not very much." He added softly, running his fingers through his hair.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

"Look, it's alright, Spike." Angel said, more convincing himself than anyone else. He stood up from his chair, rubbing his hand over his face. Spike gave a slight chuckle and shook his head.

"Right, mate, like you're so bloody concerned for my welfare." He said, under his breath. Angel shook his head and rolled his eyes again.

"I was—I was just saying…" Angel tried, but Spike just scoffed and turned away from the window.

"Sod off."

"You're the one who came here, Spike."

"Look, just lay off, right!" Spike snapped, storming toward the double doors. Before he could reach them, he felt Angel's hand on his shoulder, turning him around.

"Spike, just stop." Angel sighed as he spun to face him. Spike's face was a rictus when he turned toward his sire and Angel was taken slightly aback by it. It was a long moment of silence; just starring at each other before Spike finally did something. What he did wasn't what Angel had expected.

The younger vampire suddenly cried out, lashing out with his elbows and sending Angel back a few paces. Spike also stumbled, falling on his ass and panting in short gasping breaths. When Angel regained his footing, he watched as Spike scrambled backwards trying to get his feet under him. He was panting pretty hard, trying to get his emotions in control.

"Spike, what's wrong?"

But Spike wasn't listening, he was pressing his fingers behind him against the wall and pushing himself onto shaking legs. When he finally was able to stand, he was seething and glaring at Angel with gold tinting his eyes.

"Spike?"

He lunged again, only this time his hands were balled into fists and aiming for Angel's face. Angel ducked the first blow, but didn't see the second one coming until it was too late. A deep left hook caught Angel off guard and sent him sprawling onto his back. Somewhere between the punch and the impact, he heard Spike give a heavy grunt. Angel didn't realize until later that it was from pain.

Angel stood up and rounded on Spike, who was cradling his left arm across his chest. Spike had his eyes closed and took a few heavy, blind steps backwards into the wall, finally hitting it and sliding down to the floor.

"Spike." Angel said again, his voice more forceful and projected over Spike's gasping breaths. After a moment, Spike looked up at his sire and sneered, still cradling his arm as if it were broken. It didn't occur to Angel that it might actually be broken.

"Wanker." He accused, his voice filled with pain. Angel couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. It didn't seem right, Spike sitting on the floor, gasping like a human who actually needed to breath. Something was wrong and Angel was beginning to feel it. He watched as the blonde stared at him with hatred in his eyes and squirmed on his ass like a cornered child. Spike, still looking at his sire, pressed the fingers of his right hand into the wrist of his left and ground down on his teethe. Angel heard something pop and watched as Spike slammed his head back against the wall and worked his jaw in a wordless scream.

"Look at me. What happened?" Angel asked, squatting down and reaching out for Spike's arm. With a snarl, Spike yanked his arm away from Angel and lightly knocked his head against the wall a few more times.

"I told you ta sod off."

Angel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, Spike, I don't know what you're goal is here. So far it looks like it's just to get into a fight with me." Angel watched Spike press his eyes together.

"That was kind of the plan." He admitted, letting the injured arm fall into his lap helplessly. Angel furrowed his brow.

"Why?"

"You bloody well know why." Spike said, tears brimming at the edges of his eyes. He wasn't looking directly at Angel anymore. In fact, he was trying desperately to look _anywhere_ but at him.

Angel was baffled. He hadn't seen Spike cry since 1965. Those were the days when Spike always had to be busy. Usually it was a fight, or a good fuck. The thing with Spike was he was never happy unless he was doing one or both. If he wasn't picking a fight he was screwing Drusilla. And if he wasn't screwing Drusilla, he was off getting the shit beat out of him.

Why?

Angel never really knew why. He settled on the fact that Spike was a masochist and he pretty much let it go at that. But now, the issue had surfaced again. After so many years, suddenly Spike was acting like he had when he was young.

_Why? _Angel wondered, looking at the teary mess crumpled before him.

Then, it struck him. Like a bat out of hell, the answer smacked him in the face.

"Your hands." Angel whispered, without realizing he had said the words out loud. Spike heard him, however, and raised his glassy eyes to meet his sire's, hatred brimming right on top of the tears. But, the look softened and became a chuckle, causing Angel to feel uncomfortable.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"Yeah." Spike whispered, waiting for Angel to put the pieces together.

"You don't have to hurt yourself, Spike."

"I don' know what else to do." He admitted, letting small sobs wrack his frame. He was trying hard not to let Angel see that he was about to cry. But Angel was no fool. He knew when Spike was falling apart even before Spike did. He knew he had been in that basement for weeks, waiting for the healing to quicken, or at least allow him to leave the place. But, even in vampires, the healing took time and it wasn't in Spike's nature to wait for much of anything.

"They'll heal."

"I know."

"I'm not going to fight you, you know that right?" Angel said, reaching cautiously out and taking Spike's wrist in his. It was turning a deep shade of purple and Spike winced when it was touched.

"I know." Spike sighed, watching Angel run his fingers over the bruise.

"Why did you do that?"

"Because I don' know what else to do." Spike sighed, wiping at his eyes slightly with his right hand.

"What do you mean?"

Spike let out a deep breath and turned his head toward Angel, his face blank. For a minute Angel thought he was going to lash out again, but then his lips curved into a smile.

"Hurt me, Angel. Hurt me so I know what you want me to do." He whispered. Angel stopped what he was doing with Spike's wrist and cocked his head. He remembered Spike saying that to him a few minutes before he broke six of Spike's fingers. He also remembered that Spike had laughed while he did it.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Angel said, pressing on the wrist and feeling the broken bone grind like sandpaper. Spike yelped and arched back against the wall at the sudden flash of pain. When it ebbed away, Spike smiled.

"You broke it."

"I know."

"I'm not going to hurt you." Angel repeated again, letting Spike's hand fall into his lap. Spike sighed and chuckled, his chest heaving with the sound. He nodded slowly, then looked Angel in the eyes again.

"Then how will I know what you want?" he asked, disappointment coloring his face. Angel shook his head and leaned forward. For a minute, Spike was confused. But when he felt Angel's soft lips covering his own, he didn't much care. Angel brought his left hand up to cup Spike's cheek gently. He felt the tear tracks and ran his thumb down them, blindly.

Angel wasn't going to fight Spike, but that wasn't the only way the message ever got across. Spike always had to be doing one of two things: fighting, or fucking.


End file.
